Read Online War Year by Joe Haldeman - Free Book Online Page B

Wanna go down the line and see if anybody needs another shot—but go easy, no tellin’ what’s gonna happen tonight.”
    â€œAin’t nothin’ gonna happen tonight, man. The engineers is here. Charlie’s scared of the engineers.” He grinned and the grin was a skull’s leer in a gray Halloween mask. I didn’t know Negroes got pale.
    â€œLet’s go find some trees,” Prof said, and clapped Willy on the shoulder. “Gonna be all right, Horowitz?”
    Willy knocked his hand away. “I’ll be OK.” We went on into the woods.
    About ten yards in, we hit the perimeter. Two guys were digging like mad while the third stood in front of them with an M-16. “Hands up, Prof,” he said.
    â€œFriendly, goddammit,” Prof smiled. “Long time no see, Benson. Where’s the captain?”
    â€œThat way.” Benson gestured with his gun. “You gonna cut us some overhead?”
    â€œLong as you keep Charlie away,” Prof said.
    â€œHell, I thought you engineers was tough—chop ’em up with your chain saws.”
    â€œMust have been some other engineers you heard about. I’m chickenshit through and through.” Prof didn’t smile when he said that.
    We walked on through the woods. “Last time I saw that guy I helped put him on a Medevac chopper with a bullet in his arm.”
    â€œThey made him come back?”
    â€œYeah. Nice thing about the infantry, they don’t let you get soft. Engineers who get wounded stay back in base camp the rest of their hitch.”
    â€œGlad to hear that .”
    â€œMm-hmn. Best not to get wounded in the first place, though. There’s the captain.”
    â€œYou boys took your time.” He was sitting by a radio with a map unfolded on his knees. He looked pale and his voice shook a little.
    â€œHad to wait for a slick, sir, got here as…”
    â€œOK, Prof, I know—drop your trees in the usual pattern, in a circle around the perimeter. Work fast, it’ll be gettin’ dark in a couple of hours.”
    â€œYessir.” We kept walking in the same direction. “Either of you know how to use a chain saw?” Prof asked. I didn’t.
    â€œYeah, I worked on a farm one summer in high school,” Willy said. “We cleared away some woods with ’em.”
    â€œGood. You know how to tell what direction it’ll drop?”
    â€œWe always just made a notch on the side you wanted to fall, and then cut through from the back.”
    â€œKee-rect. You take the yellow saw, the McCullough, and I’ll take the green Remington; it’s kinda cranky if you aren’t used to it. Farmer, you’ll be our security. Carry our guns and let us know if any shooting starts. We won’t be able to hear a blessed thing once we start up the saws.”
    It was almost dark by the time we had dropped enough trees and cut them up into sections two ax handles long. While we were working two Medevac choppers landed—hot LZ or no—and took away the wounded men. Doc Jones left on the second one.
    We didn’t have time to dig a hole, but the artillery lieutenant said we could hop in his if caps started poppin’. We put our bedrolls under a tree by the artillery bunker and started to blow up our air mattresses. I was bushed, and I hadn’t done much but stand around with three guns and a gas can, although they let me saw a couple of times to cut up logs.
    â€œNow let me show you what every seasoned trooper takes onto the battlefield,” the Prof said, reaching into his pack. He pulled out three beers.
    We drank the beer and tried to relax, but it was hard to keep calm and collected while the artillery bursts walked in a circle around our perimeter. That was supposed to keep Charlie away, and I guess it worked. I fell asleep about three o’clock in the morning, and there was no attack.
    A godawful racket woke me just as the sun was